Saturday, June 30, 2007
Birth Story
We had been sitting around for weeks. I had had fantasies of the baby coming early – like before school ended so that I could miss some days of school. Then I thought the baby would come before the Raph’s mom, and things would be easy that way. Then when that plan didn’t pan out, I thought the baby was waiting for my mom. Then I hoped the baby would come by Thursday the 21st so that it would be a Gemini (I have lots of Gemini friends). But the baby didn’t cooperate so instead we sat around waiting – playing cards, eating, taking the moms out on adventures, walking, etc. Thursday afternoon we hiked to Kahena black sand beach which is about a half mile across uneven lava in each direction. We got there to find a busload of tourists gawking and giant rain clouds moving in. We left when the rain started and headed home to play some cards. Waiting had become our pastime.
Thursday night I woke up in the middle of the night and my belly was rock hard. It took me a second to realize – “oh I think this is a contraction.” It didn’t hurt or anything, but it got me a little excited because it was new. I told Raph the next day…”I think this baby is going to be born this weekend.” That night at dinner we all predicted when the baby would come. My mom said Saturday; Raph said the following Friday; I said Sunday; I forget what Ann said. (I won!)
On Friday night (June 22nd) I lay in bed, though I was wide awake. This was unusual for me because I’ve been going to bed really early since we’ve lived on solar power and even when I’m up later I wished I was asleep. I got up to go to the bathroom and had the sensation of squirting something out down there. I knew immediately that my water had broken and after a quick trip to the bathroom told Raph that we might have to go the hospital that night. Raph, the collected calm thinker that he is convinced me that perhaps we should wait until morning when I had gotten some sleep, and labor had had a chance to start.
After consulting the moms and my doula, we agreed to wait until morning and I headed to bed, with a towel between my legs. I really didn’t get much sleep. I was excited and nervous and all that stuff. Raph knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep so he convinced me to watch a movie (why Lethal Weapon 4 I’m not sure) and after that I got a few hours of sleep. At six I was up, packing the bags throwing all kinds of stuff in the car, not knowing what we’d really want or need. I called the doctor at 8:00 and learned that my doctor was not on call for the weekend and that I would have a different doctor. While I was initially disappointed, that turned out to be the best thing that could have happened.
We arrived at the hospital at about 10:00am. I was checked to be sure that indeed that the membranes had ruptured (they had indeed), had my cervical exam (I was only 1 cm dilated), and was put on the external fetal monitor to check on baby (he was fine and I was having contractions about 7 minutes apart). I was officially admitted and the waiting continued. We waited all day for labor to start (or pick up as the case may be). We wandered the hospital, walked up and down stairs (someone told us this would help with labor), watched a movie, stared at each other, etc. It was torture. I had to be on the monitor intermittently, but some of the nurses were nicer about that than others. Sitting in the uncomfortable bed on the monitor really wasn’t all that fun, but I really wanted to go to labor on my own. The doctor and I had agreed that if labor hadn’t begun in earnest on its own, then we would start the pitocin at midnight, as she wanted to see labor in action by morning. (There’s the 24-hour timeline you get after your water breaks.)
At about 10:00 pm I was trying to get some sleep, so that I could take a shower before we began the pitocin, which looked more and more necessary. Suddenly, the nice nurse that I’d had since 7 came in with a worried look on her face. She asked me to turn on my side because she said the baby’s heart rate had dropped. Other nurses came in. They put an oxygen mask on me and asked me to turn to the other side. They called the doctor. They seemed more and more frantic. They told Raph to pack up our stuff (implying we’d be having an emergency c-section). I was pretty calm. They asked me to turn over on my hands and knees. When I did that the baby’s heart rate slowly started to rise. The doctor showed up shortly thereafter. We watched the monitor for a long time; all the while I was on hands and knees, doing pelvic rocks, and wishing I could sit up.
After the baby’s heart rate had been stable for an hour, they started the pitocin, though with hesitation, afraid to stress the baby. The baby handled it fine, though, and I had the first contractions that were clearly discernible to me. They started the drip slowly, and I waited for the tough ones that I knew came with pitocin. But no. After a few hours, even those contractions that had come started to be farther and farther spaced from each other. I called in the nurse and asked her if should could turn up the pitocin, not wanting to wait any longer. It was a new nurse for me and she was condescending and mean. So I waited. I think that maybe the other nurse turned it up once or twice. The doctor came back at 6:00am and checked my cervix again. No progress. I was disappointed but not surprised. I didn’t feel like I had been working too hard. They turned up the pitocin and we waited some more. Contractions were now stronger and closer - 3-4 minutes apart – but I still didn’t feel like I was working too hard.
A new nurse came on at 7:00 am. She was mean too and she wore black scrubs, which outraged our hot hippie doula, Shannon. The mean nurse, Kate, asked me if I wanted her to up the pitocin since I wasn’t making much progress. “Yes,” I replied emphatically. So she did and soon we were in business. Almost immediately my contractions started to seem like real work. They hurt. They were coming about three minutes apart, some closer. Kate kept coming in and turning it up. I would panic when I saw her, afraid that she could turn it up again, which she did every time. I was hurting now. I couldn’t talk. I sometimes felt like I couldn’t breathe. Eventually I found the toilet. It felt good and relieved the back pain that I was having. I told Raph that when we have a house, I want that toilet. I knew the doctor was coming back between 12 and 1 so I sat on the toilet waiting. I fantasized about how far dilated I’d be after close to six hours of good contractions, with the final three hours being very tough.
At about 12:30 the doctor showed up. She checked me and broke my heart by telling me I wasn’t any farther dilated than I had been. I knew that meant I was having a c-section, and at that point I didn’t feel like I could have done things differently. I had waited. I had had a really nice doctor who let me try for as long as she felt it was safe to continue to wait. I had used the pitocin. The baby just wasn’t low enough. His head wasn’t pushing against the cervix, so even with heroic contractions, the cervix wasn’t opening. Still I cried. They tell you when you get a c-section that you didn’t fail, but it sure felt that way, and people react that way when you tell them. In fact, I don’t think that I’ve ever read a birth story other than from someone who had a c-section. Perhaps we feel we need to explain ourselves. In any case, I was upset, though resigned to what I knew now would be the course of action.
The C-section was pretty weird. The anesthesiologist was really great and really into his music. He’d get so excited about a Carol King song or an obscure Bob Dylan song. I was laid out with my arms out directly to my sides with a curtain in front of my face. I was calm and tried to be a detached as possible as they tugged on me and my legs oozed warmth from the spinal block. Raph sat next to my head and I could tell he was really nervous; he was quiet and seemed overwhelmed by the bright lights and loud voices. At one point the anesthesiologist asked him if he wanted to see what was happening. He looked over the curtain as they pulled Makili out. He said it was pretty scary - I looked like soup because my whole belly was covered with iodine and my insiders were just there, like chunks of vegetables and tofu.
As soon as the baby was out, I could hear the pediatrician oohing and aahing over how beautiful he was, how he had his mom’s auburn hair. The people in the room commented on how big he was (8 pounds) and what a screamer he was (I haven’t stopped hearing that since he was born.) Raph left me and went with the baby and soon came back with Makili to my head so I could see him. His little hands looked like they had soaked in the tub for a long time (like nine months) and I noticed the little white dots on his nose. They said this was like a rash or something. (My mom said that we were born with them on our cheeks, and she used to say we looked like little fawns.)
Soon Raph and the baby left to do the things they do to new babies – prod them, bathe them, weigh them, etc. I lay on the table listening to Patsy Kline, not knowing what to think. After a short period of shivers in the recovery room as the feeling crawled back into my body from my spine, I was taken back to my room to see my baby and Raph. I was glad to see them, to be done. I was glad to hold Makili, who already seemed too big to have been inside me, and seemed to know me better than I knew him. Raph seemed relieved to have me back, not looking like soup.
Thursday night I woke up in the middle of the night and my belly was rock hard. It took me a second to realize – “oh I think this is a contraction.” It didn’t hurt or anything, but it got me a little excited because it was new. I told Raph the next day…”I think this baby is going to be born this weekend.” That night at dinner we all predicted when the baby would come. My mom said Saturday; Raph said the following Friday; I said Sunday; I forget what Ann said. (I won!)
On Friday night (June 22nd) I lay in bed, though I was wide awake. This was unusual for me because I’ve been going to bed really early since we’ve lived on solar power and even when I’m up later I wished I was asleep. I got up to go to the bathroom and had the sensation of squirting something out down there. I knew immediately that my water had broken and after a quick trip to the bathroom told Raph that we might have to go the hospital that night. Raph, the collected calm thinker that he is convinced me that perhaps we should wait until morning when I had gotten some sleep, and labor had had a chance to start.
After consulting the moms and my doula, we agreed to wait until morning and I headed to bed, with a towel between my legs. I really didn’t get much sleep. I was excited and nervous and all that stuff. Raph knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep so he convinced me to watch a movie (why Lethal Weapon 4 I’m not sure) and after that I got a few hours of sleep. At six I was up, packing the bags throwing all kinds of stuff in the car, not knowing what we’d really want or need. I called the doctor at 8:00 and learned that my doctor was not on call for the weekend and that I would have a different doctor. While I was initially disappointed, that turned out to be the best thing that could have happened.
We arrived at the hospital at about 10:00am. I was checked to be sure that indeed that the membranes had ruptured (they had indeed), had my cervical exam (I was only 1 cm dilated), and was put on the external fetal monitor to check on baby (he was fine and I was having contractions about 7 minutes apart). I was officially admitted and the waiting continued. We waited all day for labor to start (or pick up as the case may be). We wandered the hospital, walked up and down stairs (someone told us this would help with labor), watched a movie, stared at each other, etc. It was torture. I had to be on the monitor intermittently, but some of the nurses were nicer about that than others. Sitting in the uncomfortable bed on the monitor really wasn’t all that fun, but I really wanted to go to labor on my own. The doctor and I had agreed that if labor hadn’t begun in earnest on its own, then we would start the pitocin at midnight, as she wanted to see labor in action by morning. (There’s the 24-hour timeline you get after your water breaks.)
At about 10:00 pm I was trying to get some sleep, so that I could take a shower before we began the pitocin, which looked more and more necessary. Suddenly, the nice nurse that I’d had since 7 came in with a worried look on her face. She asked me to turn on my side because she said the baby’s heart rate had dropped. Other nurses came in. They put an oxygen mask on me and asked me to turn to the other side. They called the doctor. They seemed more and more frantic. They told Raph to pack up our stuff (implying we’d be having an emergency c-section). I was pretty calm. They asked me to turn over on my hands and knees. When I did that the baby’s heart rate slowly started to rise. The doctor showed up shortly thereafter. We watched the monitor for a long time; all the while I was on hands and knees, doing pelvic rocks, and wishing I could sit up.
After the baby’s heart rate had been stable for an hour, they started the pitocin, though with hesitation, afraid to stress the baby. The baby handled it fine, though, and I had the first contractions that were clearly discernible to me. They started the drip slowly, and I waited for the tough ones that I knew came with pitocin. But no. After a few hours, even those contractions that had come started to be farther and farther spaced from each other. I called in the nurse and asked her if should could turn up the pitocin, not wanting to wait any longer. It was a new nurse for me and she was condescending and mean. So I waited. I think that maybe the other nurse turned it up once or twice. The doctor came back at 6:00am and checked my cervix again. No progress. I was disappointed but not surprised. I didn’t feel like I had been working too hard. They turned up the pitocin and we waited some more. Contractions were now stronger and closer - 3-4 minutes apart – but I still didn’t feel like I was working too hard.
A new nurse came on at 7:00 am. She was mean too and she wore black scrubs, which outraged our hot hippie doula, Shannon. The mean nurse, Kate, asked me if I wanted her to up the pitocin since I wasn’t making much progress. “Yes,” I replied emphatically. So she did and soon we were in business. Almost immediately my contractions started to seem like real work. They hurt. They were coming about three minutes apart, some closer. Kate kept coming in and turning it up. I would panic when I saw her, afraid that she could turn it up again, which she did every time. I was hurting now. I couldn’t talk. I sometimes felt like I couldn’t breathe. Eventually I found the toilet. It felt good and relieved the back pain that I was having. I told Raph that when we have a house, I want that toilet. I knew the doctor was coming back between 12 and 1 so I sat on the toilet waiting. I fantasized about how far dilated I’d be after close to six hours of good contractions, with the final three hours being very tough.
At about 12:30 the doctor showed up. She checked me and broke my heart by telling me I wasn’t any farther dilated than I had been. I knew that meant I was having a c-section, and at that point I didn’t feel like I could have done things differently. I had waited. I had had a really nice doctor who let me try for as long as she felt it was safe to continue to wait. I had used the pitocin. The baby just wasn’t low enough. His head wasn’t pushing against the cervix, so even with heroic contractions, the cervix wasn’t opening. Still I cried. They tell you when you get a c-section that you didn’t fail, but it sure felt that way, and people react that way when you tell them. In fact, I don’t think that I’ve ever read a birth story other than from someone who had a c-section. Perhaps we feel we need to explain ourselves. In any case, I was upset, though resigned to what I knew now would be the course of action.
The C-section was pretty weird. The anesthesiologist was really great and really into his music. He’d get so excited about a Carol King song or an obscure Bob Dylan song. I was laid out with my arms out directly to my sides with a curtain in front of my face. I was calm and tried to be a detached as possible as they tugged on me and my legs oozed warmth from the spinal block. Raph sat next to my head and I could tell he was really nervous; he was quiet and seemed overwhelmed by the bright lights and loud voices. At one point the anesthesiologist asked him if he wanted to see what was happening. He looked over the curtain as they pulled Makili out. He said it was pretty scary - I looked like soup because my whole belly was covered with iodine and my insiders were just there, like chunks of vegetables and tofu.
As soon as the baby was out, I could hear the pediatrician oohing and aahing over how beautiful he was, how he had his mom’s auburn hair. The people in the room commented on how big he was (8 pounds) and what a screamer he was (I haven’t stopped hearing that since he was born.) Raph left me and went with the baby and soon came back with Makili to my head so I could see him. His little hands looked like they had soaked in the tub for a long time (like nine months) and I noticed the little white dots on his nose. They said this was like a rash or something. (My mom said that we were born with them on our cheeks, and she used to say we looked like little fawns.)
Soon Raph and the baby left to do the things they do to new babies – prod them, bathe them, weigh them, etc. I lay on the table listening to Patsy Kline, not knowing what to think. After a short period of shivers in the recovery room as the feeling crawled back into my body from my spine, I was taken back to my room to see my baby and Raph. I was glad to see them, to be done. I was glad to hold Makili, who already seemed too big to have been inside me, and seemed to know me better than I knew him. Raph seemed relieved to have me back, not looking like soup.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Monday, June 25, 2007
Makili
We have not taken that many pictures so far. Blayne is recovering, and pictures have not been the top priority yet. Here is a sample. There will be an update from Blayne in a few days with the birth story and more pictures. His name has been settled on as Makili Bennett Matty. There were many names in the running for a long time, but this one seems to have stuck it out.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Flowers for Bunny
I hear Bunny is a fan of the flower pictures...so here are a few more, though not that awesome.
300 earthquakes
We didn't know it until we were leaving, but apparently the volcano had an active day the other day, and we happened to be there. 300 earthquakes in one day as the magma was draining from one chamber to another or something like that! The road around the crater was closed we found out after we spent some time at the Jagger Museum. We couldn't get near the siesmograph museum because there were so many people gawking at all the activity. We didn't even know that until the next day when we read it in the paper. The current eruption out of Pu'u O'o crater appears to have stopped, which is pretty big news around here. I told Raph that maybe lava will flow over the house that we almost bought, then he wouldn't feel bad about us not getting it.
Anyway, we're spending a lot of time staring at eachother, which has been just fine with me. The moms seem okay with it for the most part, though. I don't think they realized how serious I was when I said we didn't do anything, before they came out here!
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Lost the race
These pictures have nothing to do with anything, but I like blogs better when there are pictures. Raph handed out signed copies of the one of him to his students on the last day of school. Very Napoleon Dynamite.
We're hanging in there. I officially lost the race. Both of my friends who were due this month had their babies already. Welcome Emma and Aila. Both girls. Both moms did great (good work Trisha and Melissa). I'm excited. I talk to them and I'm excited. it sounds fun. My mom gets here today so anytime after today would be fabulous. The sooner the better so that they little guy won't be too small to fly home and we can make it to Tom and Laura's wedding. This is the age of weddings and babies!
Raph was put in charge of naming the baby after we got frustrated about the whole process a few weeks ago. He is taking his responsibility very seriously. He won't tell me his ideas because he says I'll overanalyze them and whatever. He's threatening to name the baby Sherlock Homie G Matty. What a comic, huh! When we were in the doctor's office last week, they told me to take off my pants for the cervical exam and left the room. Raph's response as soon as they left was, "I wonder what their reaction would be if they came back and neither of us were wearing pants?" He does keep me laughing.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
waiting
I know how you feel kitty. Work is done and the waiting begns. For the moms, for the baby, to go back to the mainland.
Sunday we spent the entire day at home, reading, cooking, playing cards, quilting, etc. It was lovely, though by three o'clock our tranquil time verged on boredom. I tried to fly a kite my mother gave me, but it didn't come with any string, so I improvised from my sewing box and still had no luck. Raph, my hero, came out to engineer the thing so it would work and we stood in the yard for quite a while waiting for the wind to be right, trying to tug that little kite into the air. All to no avail. So he ran around the yard with it instead, which cracked me up. The only thing funnier than that was when I taped the fart machine my sister gave me to the bottom of his chair. I swear I almost birthed the baby laughing so hard. Everyone needs a fart machine.
Yesterday we went for a walk in the national park at Kikuka puulani or something like that. A kikuka is an island of ground that is left intact when the lava flows around it, so it is older and has richer soil than anything around it. That could be symbolic, eh? Anyway, it was a lovely walk and though we tried hard to see the rare birds which the area is known for, we weren't that lucky. I'm not cut out to be a birder. I was hot, which I seem to be all the time lately. I apologize for so much belly in your face. I was fully shocked by the picture of me. I can't stop looking at that picture because I'm so incredulous that its me. And then I also am kind of disgusted by it. It's a wierd feeling. Soon that big lump will be on the outside.
Sunday we spent the entire day at home, reading, cooking, playing cards, quilting, etc. It was lovely, though by three o'clock our tranquil time verged on boredom. I tried to fly a kite my mother gave me, but it didn't come with any string, so I improvised from my sewing box and still had no luck. Raph, my hero, came out to engineer the thing so it would work and we stood in the yard for quite a while waiting for the wind to be right, trying to tug that little kite into the air. All to no avail. So he ran around the yard with it instead, which cracked me up. The only thing funnier than that was when I taped the fart machine my sister gave me to the bottom of his chair. I swear I almost birthed the baby laughing so hard. Everyone needs a fart machine.
Yesterday we went for a walk in the national park at Kikuka puulani or something like that. A kikuka is an island of ground that is left intact when the lava flows around it, so it is older and has richer soil than anything around it. That could be symbolic, eh? Anyway, it was a lovely walk and though we tried hard to see the rare birds which the area is known for, we weren't that lucky. I'm not cut out to be a birder. I was hot, which I seem to be all the time lately. I apologize for so much belly in your face. I was fully shocked by the picture of me. I can't stop looking at that picture because I'm so incredulous that its me. And then I also am kind of disgusted by it. It's a wierd feeling. Soon that big lump will be on the outside.
Friday, June 08, 2007
Where things stand
I'm due soon - two to three weeks. The moms come this week. Today is our last official day of work, though we don't have any students - just lots of cleaning. (I'm actually taking a break from cleaning Raph's room.) While the stress of ending the school year will be welcome, I'm not sure what we'll be doing while we wait for the baby - staring at each other, playing cards, cooking, eating, walking, reading. Pretty relaxing. Maybe the baby will feel the difference and know it's time. We also won't have regular e-mail access after today so the blogging might be thinner, though as soon as the baby comes we'll try to get some pic on here. Who knows how many people read this blog anyway? Maybe I'm talking to myself most of the time, but I'm really speaking to my friends and family that aren't here. I miss you.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
crater walk
This is the ancient pit crater right by our house, though as always photos really don't do it justice. A lone picture of pregnant me and Raph together. I think I look like my sister in this photograph. And our dear friend Dan, who is now en route to Poland. A last jaunt into the outdoors with him and a hearty vegetarian meal. The only way we know how to say goodbye.
Sunday, June 03, 2007
little sausages and blow-up mattresses
Raph has been walking with me a lot lately. Ever since we saw the giant boars in the orchard on our drive home. The last thing that I want at 8.5 months pregnant is to be chased or gored by a wild pig. So he has been walking with me. Our road is an overground mess so each of us has to walk in our own tire rut for most of the way which works out fine, but when we got to the short paved section and could walk closer together, I reached out and took his hand. He looked down at my hand in a perplexed way, and I asked, "What's wrong?" "Nothing," he said, "your hand feels fat." What a romantic, huh? It is true though, both my hands and feet fill up with that extra blood volume. I had to remove my rings last week after a walk, when my fingers looked like stuffed sausages. And my feet, well they feel like blow-up mattresses. They get really stressed when I walk on them, as though the air is fighting to get out of the mattress when too many people are on top of it. Lovely little quippet of pregnant life.
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